Never Follow The Recipe

Do I have trouble following a recipe? Nope, I’m capable of following, just never feel like doing it. “Never follow a recipe” is my slogan when I cook. Every dish will be different and perfectly imperfect. Every meal, every moment, and every step in life is unique. So is the food that is supposed to nurture our body, us.

There is beauty in repentance, there is beauty in continuously good food but there is magic in finding something new in the same pudding.

Once Upon a Time…

Let me share another secret with you. Every time it rains cats and dogs there is this urge in me that takes me to the kitchen. I feel like I have to make a pudding and eat it hot.

Yeah, I might be crazy.

So, every time I’m hyped up about the delicious pudding I make sure the family knows about my plan. Kids watch me with their round hungry eyes to be ready. I praise the pudding. I tell stories about how cozy is to listen to the raindrops and fill our belly with the finest, warmest dessert on Earth.

They tell me to hurry, I say it’s a matter of time. They want to try it, and I say it’s too hot right now. How excited they are when I’m finally ready, or seems like ready. Because in my kitchen not everything is made from sugar and spice and everything nice.

For the last six years, I have made puddings and never ever followed the recipe.

And my family has to face this ugly truth every rainy day.

Practicality

Once I put a very liquidy pudding in the mini-cake forms and tossed it to the fridge. I told the kids to come back in an hour. It wasn’t as wobbly as I promised. Nothing really happened with the pudding. It was like a weird milkshake.

The other time I stirred the pudding for an hour. My hands were tired, I was warmed up and the pudding was still runny. But hey, it’s fun to drink it.

Later I figured I’d always forgotten to put sugar in. I mean, my kids ate it anyway so it’s okay. But when I added this secret ingredient… Whoa, they started to love it.

I screw up every time.

But we could flip our gloomy mood and make something out of it. We created stories to tell, we figured our way out of disasters. In the end, we had our pudding. Nothing like in the pictures.

The Big Day

It was hard to watch my husband’s disappointment. He longed for a traditional pudding, the perfect pudding. He was unhappy and told me that I don’t make perfect puddings because I cannot. He thought I deliberately messed up the puddings and deep down I enjoyed the chaos (the last one is true, tho.).

One rainy day I decided to follow the steps. Every each of them.

While I was making a pudding I had never before, I started to realize what had gone wrong for so long. Soon, the perfect pudding was on the table.

Everyone was happy eating it, except me.

I couldn’t enjoy it. So, started to observe the table and the people.

The kids ate it fast. Wanted more. There were no more, I said. They said it was good and left the table.

I missed the brainstorming on how to make it tastier, prettier, and overall better. I was missing the way to figure out when things went wrong. I missed the jokes about how bad a cook their mom is. Yes, me. I haven’t had to defend myself. The pudding was eaten. No one left a bite for me to grab.

I didn’t know why it made me sad.

I started to wonder if am I able to appreciate perfection and beauty. Am I broken aesthetically and only find beauty in less idealistic creatures, things, and events? Every mistake you make has a value, is there less value in perfection than in imperfection?

I have to think more about this very matter. Until then, listen to the old witch and never follow the recipe.

Make everything your way, the way only you can make.

Thanks for reading!

The Witty Witch